Torn Apart COMPLETED
by Pikester
Summary: The sequel to a fic of vfiction.net (Completed)
1. Summary

(A Final Fantasy VII fan-fiction and the sequel to a fiction from vfiction.net, which apparently is no longer in existence.  NOTE: Rated R for STRONG language, alcohol references, and VERY mature events, a.k.a. perverted events.  You've been warned…)

I've had this idea for a long time – even since last summer before school started.  I went to that Final Fantasy VII fan site, and saw some inspirational pieces of work.  There was one particular one that I didn't think was so complete, so I decided to make a sequel.  Too bad the site doesn't seem to exist anymore…  So, without further conclusion, here's the unchaptered sequel.  (This would be considered a short story in the site, methinks.)

Here's a brief summary for those who wish to know why this is a sequel.  In the story I read, the setting is after Final Fantasy 7 ends, back in the Lifestream.  Cloud goes back there to rescue Aeris, and Tifa follows him along.  The ghost of Aeris tells them the only way to save her is to sacrifice someone's life by diving into the Lifestream and touching her hand.  Both Cloud and Aeris turn to Tifa for that.

Tifa goes ballistic, saying, "If you love Aeris, why don't _you_ sacrifice yourself, Cloud!?"

She stomps away as Cloud tries to apologize.  Aeris, however, still wants to live again, and she starts to agree with what Tifa said.  But Cloud backs away and runs after Tifa, instead.

The fic begins on the next chapter.


	2. Hatred and Heartache

**Torn Apart**

Chapter 1:

Tifa returned to the Highwind, all other emotions blinded by rage.  How could Cloud do this to her?  She confesses her love to him, and he confesses his love for Aeris.  And then, he wants her to sacrifice herself to bring Aeris back to life!?  It was ludicrous!

Cid was making some checks on the Highwind's engine while they were gone.  He looked over his shoulder immediately, upon hearing Tifa's boots stomping into the hard dirt ground.

"Something the matter, Tifa?" he asked, in his rough, kind voice.  "Where's Cloud?"

Tifa felt her cheeks flush in frustration.  "I'm fine," she snarled, not daring to face Cid directly.  "As for Cloud…  Can we just leave – right away?  He said he's going to stay behind for a while."

"All righty, then."

Cid attempted to wipe off his greasy hands, but even his trousers were smudged with oil and grease.  Shrugging to himself, he escorted Tifa up the ramp and into the Highwind.  The ramp retracted and then swung in upwards like a door.  The aircraft was secured for liftoff.

Cloud rushed to meet the lifting ship, forcing himself past the debris of Mideel and stumbling over even more.  Finally, he somersaulted into the open area…  But it was too late.  The Highwind had taken off and was already a speck in the horizon.

"Tifa, wait!" he cried out, extending out his hand as if he were expecting to grab the speck in the sky and pull it back.  "Come back!"  Seeing no result, he collapsed to his knees, and then on all fours.  "Come… back…"

The weight of his emotional pain was too much for him to bear.  And for the first time in years, and maybe his entire life, Cloud pressed his hands to his face… and wept.


	3. Diary

Chapter 2:

Several weeks later…

"Where to now, Tifa?" Cid asked, flicking away his burnt-away cigarette.

Tifa had been searching for her old friends – the old companions.  So far, she had received no results whatsoever.  She had hoped that, in finding even _one_ of them, she would forget all about Cloud and the incident at the Lifestream.

But weeks had already past, and she found herself grieving more than ever.  She couldn't stop thinking of him, but she knew she had already made her decision.  There was no more Cloud.  There was no turning back.

And then, the most unlikely word came out – possibly, not even _she_ knew why she said it.  However, plain and simple, she said, "Midgar."

Cid nearly dropped his lighter while he tried to light his next cigarette.  "Are you serious?"

Tifa sighed, letting her eyelids fall.  "Yes…  I am serious."

Cid shrugged.  "Okay.  If that's what you say, we're off!  Midgar is just south of here.  Land is no more than a minute away."

Tifa joined Cid at the helm of the ship, laying herself on the clear counter.  She looked out the window to see the clear water only a hundred or so feet below.  The Highwind sped onward, and they _did_ see land in less than a minute.

"The Midgar Area is straight ahead," Cid announced.

Tifa didn't need to hear it twice.  Not only did she see the land, but the city itself.  Who could mistake the bleak air encasing the filthy city?  No doubt, you would be able to identify it more than two miles away.

Suddenly, her senses perked up.  As they approached the continent, she saw, on the beach, a battered raft.

Curious, Tifa asked, "Cid, what's that raft down there?"

Cid craned his neck forward.  "I dunno.  Do you wanna land and check it out?"

"Yes," came the nearly blank response.

The Highwind was on the ground in less than two minutes.  The ramp unfolded downwards and extended to the ground.  As usual, Cid remained behind as Tifa came down to investigate.

She ambled down to the raft, looking around again and again to see if there was someone injured.  There was nobody, so she allowed herself to search the raft.  No one would mind, so she thought.

Not much searching was needed.  Almost immediately, she found a worn-away, leather-covered book – one she recognized as a common diary design -- and a yellow Materia.  Making sure no one was around she carefully opened the diary.  Whoever wrote in this started late, and not too long ago.  She opened to the entry before the last.

_May 3_

_It's Tifa's birthday, today.  But I've been broke for a while, now, and there aren't many shops out here on the water.  In fact, there aren't any at all.  Besides, where would I find her?  Ever since that fight we had at the Lifestream, my life seemed clearer and more complex at the same time._

_Maybe I don't deserve to find the right love for myself.  Maybe I don't deserve to have Tifa as a friend._

_And it's not likely she'll ever find this.  Hell, she might not even find me alive.  So, just to get this off my back, I would like to write:_

_Tifa, I'm sorry.  I screwed up big time._

_Not even that sounds right._

Tifa didn't have to think twice about whose diary it was.  This was Cloud's diary.  She smiled at the thought that it even _sounded_ like him.  …May 3rd?  Yes, that was her birthday, and it was only two weeks ago.  She had no celebration; although Cid baking a small cake for her from the limited supplies he had on the Highwind could be the only exception.

She turned to the last entry.  It was rather brief.

_May 10_

_A week had past, and I have made a rough landing on the Midgar Area.  Just great.  Midgar – of all places to land.  It just happened to be Midgar…  But this was where I wanted to land.  Dad is in there, somewhere, and I'll find him._

_I have no family left.  I have no friends left.  What have I got to lose if I die trying?  Maybe I'll leave this diary here, for now.  No Aeris.  No Zach.  No Tifa.  Maybe if I die, it'll do them all good – especially Tifa._

_This is the end of Cloud Strife._


	4. Bar Solution

Chapter 3:

Tifa's heart split in two.  The emotional pain was so great that she even started to feel it physically.  She felt her heart suffocating itself, not wanting to feel any pain anymore.  Tears swelled hotly in her eyes and dripped to the ground.  Wiping them away, she stood up.  Through her tears, she saw that she was still holding the Materia.  She didn't know why she did it, but she stored it safely into her pocket.

While she put it inside, she felt something else.  Curious, she pulled the thing out.  It was her bracelet – the one that broke at Mt. Nibel.  She had found all the charms except one, and she had never worn it since that day…

She had informed Cid that she would be in Midgar for a while – a long while, perhaps.  Upon entering the gate to Sector 1, she looked around.  Nothing had changed.  Midgar was still the same filthy, wretched place and still swarming with thugs.

Sighing at the surrounding sights, she reminded herself of the reason she came back.  She was to rebuild the 7th Heaven bar.  It was her own decision – just to get her mind off the problems of her world.

On her way to the ruined Sector 7, where she had heard people were clearing and repairing, her eye caught another bar.

She sighed.  "Hell.  Why not?"

And she sauntered into the bar.  It was a lively place with men chatting, chuckling, and swearing all around.  However, the bartender seemed quite kind.  As she sat down at the counter and rested her head, he leaned against the counter beside her.

"What's the matter, miss?" he asked gently.

Tifa slowly lifted her head.  "I'm just depressed, sir."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "Hmm.  Aren't you that young bar hostess that used to run the 7th Heaven?  You had quite a selection there."

"Yes, that's me.  But Sector 7 is under reconstruction, and I've been…"  She sighed, letting her head drop again.  "I just feel miserable."

"I see."  The bartender poured a glass of his specialty drinks and placed it beside her.  "Here, drink this.  I guarantee that, after a few of these shots, you'll feel all lively inside.  You'll forget all about your problems."

Tifa lifted her head once more.  She reached for the drink…


	5. The Mysterious Storm Strife

Chapter 4:

Half an hour later, a strongly built man entered the bar.  He wore a black leather jacket over an exerciser's shirt and cargo pants, which was a typical adventurer's look.  His hair was finely cut and had a graying blonde color.  The man's eyes were deep blue and had a faint glow to them.  He could've been no younger than forty years of age.

He sat down at the counter, and the bartender immediately came to him.

"Ah!" he said.  "Welcome back, Mr. Strife.  The usual, I presume?"

"Yes, Mr. Malcolm," Strife said.  "The usual it is."

As the bartender stepped away to prepare his drink, he looked over to a table to see a familiar face.  She was very outgoing to the men at the table, babbling on and on about nonsense.

"Well, if it isn't Tifa Lockheart," he said to himself, in a rather annoyed tone.

"Here's your drink, Mr. Strife," Malcolm said, sliding a glass across the counter.

Strife stopped it and said, "Malcolm, isn't that Tifa Lockheart?"

"That she is," the bartender said, cleaning out a glass.  "Why do you ask, Storm?  Was she another lover of yours?"

Strife didn't answer.  Instead, he got up and walked casually over to the table to hear what she was saying.  Her babbling continued, and he caught a joke from her.

"And the guy's like 'No way!  I'm married to the Midgar Zolom!'" she laughed.

And so did all the men.  Strife blended quite well in the background, but that was also because all the men had their undivided attention to Tifa.

Taking a deep drink, Tifa said loudly, "I feel like singing, boys!"

She brought her empty glass down hard onto the table and zigzagged to the stage where, usually, bands would perform.  A microphone was set up in case something like this would happen.

Completely out of tune, she started singing: "_I'm never gonna meet a gu-u-uy, who left me there to yea-ea-earn.  You left me stranded on the isle, and left me there to bu-u-urn_."

Strife shook his head, sighing.  "Oh, Tifa.  What have you done to yourself…"

She continued to sing, and soon enough, she shook off her tank-top shirt.  Noticing, she practically ripped off her bra and swung it around before releasing it to the crowd.  All the men wolf-whistled, cheering her on.

"Shake it all up, babe!"

"Yeah!  And strip it all off!"

Strife was disgusted with the amount of filth they cried out to Tifa.  He closed his eyes, letting the event pass as if it were a dream.  Maybe it was a dream.

It wasn't.  The whistling and filth only grew louder, and Strife did his best to block it all out.  That wouldn't work.  A glove came flying and slapped him on the forehead.

"Hey, it's Storm Strife!" one of the men cried out.  "Hey, Storm!  Why won't you tell us your real name?  …Ah, well!  Come and join us!  …Or are you gonna hang around there like your son?"

Strife spat.  "Peh!  My son's a fuckin' bastard.  I ain't half as near to what he's like."

"Yeah, sure.  But you still gotta check this hot babe out!"

Strife dared to open his eyes.  He was even more disgusted to see Tifa butt naked by now, dancing on the stage like a maniac.  A youthful man walked up to the stage.

"Hey, babe," he said.  "What do you say that you get laid with me in the rooms upstairs, eh?"

Tifa did one of those shy girl poses, pressing her index finger to her lips and blushing.  "Ooo!  That sounds like a wild idea!"

"Yeah.  This will be easy.  You're fuckin' hot."

He wrapped his arm around his bare waist and tickled her under the chin.  Tifa giggled.  This was all enough to release the storm of Strife.  It seemed like, in less than half a second, he was over at the stage.  In less than two seconds, the egoistic fellow was on the ground, a slit of blood across his middle.  Tifa was now in Strife's arms and still very drunk, and Strife held a giant sword pointed at him.

"If you ever try to disrespect my daughter like that again, Mendoza…" he threatened.

He didn't even need to finish.  Like lightning, Mendoza was scrambling out the bar door.  Strife looked around the rest of the bar with a hard gaze.  He didn't even have to threaten all those other men.  They immediately returned to their drinks and regular conversations.  Strife brought Tifa upstairs to an empty inn room and laid her on the bed and under the covers.  She was asleep in less than a minute.

Strife returned downstairs to Malcolm and placed ten gil on the counter.  "That's for her room, tonight."

"I didn't know she was your daughter, Storm," the bartender said.  "Likewise, I didn't even know you _had_ a daughter."

Strife gestured him to lean closer.  Then, he whispered, "She isn't my daughter…  Well, not yet, I think.  She's my son's girl, so I've heard.  She's a little depressed because she and he got into a fight."

"And how do you know all of this?  From what I've heard, you haven't even _met_ your son."

"I've never known him.  I'll put it that way.  But I have my reasons of knowing…"

The bartender shrugged.  "If you say so, Storm."

Strife handed him an extra five gil.  "Can you do me a favor and gather all of her clothes?  You're one of the most respectable men I know around here, Malcolm."

"You can count on me, Storm."


	6. Strife and Tifa

Chapter 5:

Tifa woke up, and the first thing she noticed was the change in her surroundings.  The last thing she remembered, she was at the bar counter having a drink.  Then, she lost herself.

_I probably got drunk_, she thought.  Then, after feeling no clothing on herself whatsoever and experiencing a loud pounding in her head, she added, _Okay…  I_ know _I got drunk.  Dammit!_

A knock on the door nearly sent her leaping out of the bed entirely.  Quickly regaining herself and pulling the covers so that it covered her entirely with the exception of her head, she accepted the visitor.  A well-built man walked into the room, holding her clothes and a tray of breakfast balanced on top of it.

"Good morning, Tifa," he said, gruffly, though kindly.

Tifa was a little spooked to know that someone she didn't know knew her name.  "Wh-Who are you?"

The man set his pile down on the table beside her bed and stepped away, avoiding eye contact.  "I'm a traveler, and many people know me as Storm Strife."

"You're Cloud's father!"

Strife chuckled.  "Well, it didn't take long for you to figure that out."  He finally brought himself to face Tifa directly.  "Yes, I am Cloud's father.  And from what I hear, Cloud's been worried sick about you."

Tifa faced away stubbornly.  "Peh!  The hell with what you hear, then.  Cloud loves Aeris, not me."

She had expected him to scold her and prove her wrong, but instead, he said, smiling, "I must have heard wrongly, then.  I _am_ talking to the source, after all."

There was something in that grin and in his words that made Tifa's mind flip upside-down.  The pounding in her head came stronger, now, and she collapsed back, moaning.

"Well, I'll leave you be, then," Strife said.  "I think you feel rather uncomfortable having me in here when you're not even dressed."  As he walked out the door, and not bothering to look at her again, he added, "Eat and drink up.  That drunkie's headache is bound to heal after that."


	7. ReEncounter with Mendoza

Chapter 6:

Tifa felt rather awkward after breakfast.  She left the bar (and no customers were there, thankfully) and made her way towards Sector 7.  The bleak sky above and the shadow of the gigantic Shinra tower made Midgar look as if it were in the evening part of the world.

She started passing through Sector 6, and already she could hear the noisiness of the Wall Market.  She wondered if anyone in Wall Market ever really slept.

And as she passed through the playground…

"Hey, babe.  We didn't finish, last night."

Horrified, Tifa whirled around to a large pile of debris.  There was a handsome man and two others, but the man didn't seem at all friendly.  She instinctively jumped into her martial arts' ready position.

"Who are you?" she asked cautiously.

The man and his fellows leaped down, landing just a few yards away from her.  "Aw, I'm hurt.  You don't remember our little time together, last night?"

"No," came the stubborn reply, "and frankly, I don't want to."

"Well, then, I hate to do this to you but…"

He snapped his fingers.  Immediately, his two fellow thugs closed in on her.  As they got to close, Tifa reacted, flipping one of them over her shoulder and immediately kicking the other in the gut.  She fought them for several seconds, but her practice was faulty, and she soon found herself flailing desperately to get free from their grasps.

The main man walked up to her and ran a finger down the middle of her breast, smirking.  "You won't be able to resist me, Miss Strife.  No one can resist Mendoza."

As he started to unbutton her shorts and pull them down seductively, the shine of a blade blinded them all.  Before anyone regained their senses, one of the henchmen was on the ground twitching.  And before Mendoza could recover, Tifa punched his other man unconscious.

However, when he recovered, he knew exactly how to react.  He drew his sword and held Tifa's neck at the blade.  Then, he felt the cold blade of another against his cheek.

"What did I tell you last night, Mendoza?" Strife demanded.

"I don't heed _anyone's_ threats, Strife," Mendoza countered coldly.

In the blink of an eye, Mendoza released Tifa and whirled around, slashing Strife across the chest.  In reaction, Strife gave a countering blow.  Mendoza blocked, and swung his sword once and again, slitting Strife's chest and left arm.  Tifa, acting quickly, jumped onto him, bringing him down.  With his remaining strength, Strife brought the buster sword down, Tifa rolling aside to safety.

Mendoza was finished.


	8. Together Again Forever

Thank you for reading _Torn Apart_. We now present the conclusion to our feature presentation.

Chapter 7:

Losing strength and blood quickly, Strife collapsed to the ground, attempting to gain support of his sword. But even after that, he collapsed completely. Tifa, as she started to walk, quickly tripped on her shorts that Mendoza had pulled down. The Materia tumbled out. It bounced across the hard rocky ground and found a place to stop itself in Strife's buster sword… Or was it Strife's buster sword?

Tifa pulled up and buttoned her shorts, starting to rush to Storm Strife's aid. But as he approached, a glowing light encircled him. Strife's hair started to regain its color, and the fine cut turned spiked. His unshaven chin turned smoother and narrower. His brawny body became slightly scrawnier. The only thing that didn't change were his fresh wounds.

Cloud Strife, upon regaining his senses, immediately noticed Tifa kneeling so close to him. Ashamed, he forced himself off the ground and grabbed his sword. He started to run away, but collapsed once more after several feet. Tifa got up and walked over to him. Struggling to find a way to flee, he pushed her away.

"No, Tifa," he said, tears dripping from his eyes. "Don't come to me. I'll only cause you more pain. Stay away. Stay away!"

Tifa shook her head, her eyes not leaving his for even a moment. She grinned faintly. "No, Cloud. You will cause me pain only if you leave my side."

"Tifa…"

Cloud stopped struggling, resting himself against the dome slide. He was breathing hard, trying to keep himself together. Tifa knelt down and slid close to him, tears swelling from her eyes also.

"I would never survive without you," she whispered.

"And neither would I," he whispered weakly. Then, remembering something, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny bag. "Happy birthday, Tifa."

She opened it, and there was the last charm to her bracelet. She looked at her childhood friend again, and she felt like a child once more. She blushed a deep red, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Aw, Cloud…"

They both studied each other intently, their faces gradually coming closer together. Both closed their eyes and their lips touched. They held each other in a full embrace. They held on to each other, never to let go…

…ever again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pike: Aww... That's sooooo sweet! ::cry:: Anyway, R&R if you can, people! It's kinda sad... I finished this fic, yet I have less than even 5 reviews... Ah, well.

_Disclaimer: Pike Anderson does not own Final Fantasy 7_


End file.
